About you

 

I say my words are not about you,

but how can they be of any other,

when I speak only truth,

and that truth sits under my hearts roof,

when I can talk only of the sky I'm under.

I can only describe the sunsets beauty,

because it pales beside your view.

The way you bleed across my eyes,

seeping your light into every pore,

warming my soul at its very core.

Making me realise

that there is nothing more

I could ever ask for than to spend

my seconds in your hands,

as we spin around

this giant clockface universe,

or sift through its hourglass sands.

 

I can only talk of the moon,

because when I look into her eyes,

I see you looking back.

I'm swooped into the world

of cosmic hearts fluttering

on galactic winds.

Their wings of magnificence

would be so blinding,  

if your own light wasn't shining brighter.

I can only describe the trees,

the forests, the night owl cities,

because in my dreams

you walk these places with me.

You show me sights my eyes

would never have seen,

Take me to places I've never been.

 

I say these words are ambiguous,

but I'd have to be ambidextrous to

juggle all the thoughts that flow through

like riverways of love.

They can only ever remind me of you.

The beauty I see in the sky, in the flowers

growing free on a roadside beside a lake.

The breathtaking views I paint

can only exist with your

hand guiding my pen.

With your imagination feeding me,

to feel more deeply

the world that lives all around me.

I can only talk of love

as it lives and breathes

I can't conjure up those thoughts

like a tree birthing new leaves,

and I can't picture me,

without you there too.

 

I say my poems are about

no one in particular,

but how can I conjure up a shooting star,

how can I

paint a picture without a model

to draw inspiration from.

I could doodle a quick

cartoon sketch,

but that wouldn't have the depth,

like looking and seeing

your breath part your lips,

or counting every strand of hair

so perfectly in place,

or noticing the detail in the iris.

The preciseness of the way you

hold a table of the highest

and keep everyone enthralled.

I notice the little things,

the big things, all in between,

and these all make my heart sing.

So how could I be true,

if my pen didn't bleed

the ink of love

over the page for you.

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff

My latest book, "Journey"

the third part of my "Travels with pen trilogy"

is now available, with all of my other books, 

at Amazon

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Kyle-Coare/author/B07GWQTN4M

 

Please buy a copy if you can

it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle